


Fitting Forms

by NimWallace



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Wings, Aziraphale's Bookshop, Crowley is nice, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Queerplatonic Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 13:06:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19210033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NimWallace/pseuds/NimWallace
Summary: Crowley has a curiousity. Aziraphale is happy to humour him.





	Fitting Forms

It is very well known throughout Humanity that, there are certain Creatures of the Earth that take on some holy or sacred form.   
For example, in Hinduism, the cow is a sacred animal. In Christianity, it is the lamb and lion which take the primary concerns.   
It is widely debated by theologians if these animals are simply symbols reflecting certain Traits upon a God/gods, or if they are meant to be taken literally.   
They are meant to be taken very literally.   
Crowley always found the notion that the animals were symbols a bit silly. After all, how could the symbol be understood before it existed? If God wanted the lion to symbolize bravery, well, She'd have to establish that lion=bravery, first.   
Animals did eventually begin to represent their own Trait. Crowley found it quite offensive when he learned that the term “snake” was being used to describe liars and vagrants. He quite liked his Snake Form.   
Crowley had other forms, as well. All demons have Shape shifting abilities, though Angels are more limited in that area. Crowley had never seen Aziraphale morph into some kind of Creature before, and he'd never thought to ask if he could do it. He'd just sort of figured it was one of those things Aziraphale Didn't Do Because it Was a Waste of Holy Power or something. He'd only seen him take his True Form twice.   
Aziraphale, in his True Form, was beautiful. His wings were creamy-white and his whole form glowed with holy light, making the grey of his eyes turn a russet gold.   
As far as Other Forms, he'd only ever seen Aziraphale's human one. He'd gotten very used to it and thought it rather well suited him. It was as if a good part of the Angel's personality could be deduced just by the way he dressed and walked, never mind when he gets his mouth going.   
Well, it happened that one day, while all of this was running about Crowley's mind, Aziraphale had found a particularly rare letter by Oscar Wilde, and was very eager to talk about it.   
“I'll just come down and you can show them to me, don't read them over the phone,” Crowley said. Aziraphale babbled on excitedly.   
“Oh, oh good, I'll see you soon then.”   
Crowley hung up.   
  
When he arrived at the bookshop, Aziraphale looked ready to boil over with ecstasy. He was twiddling his hands and his rainwater eyes were glimmering with excitement.   
“Oh you're here, Crowley! Look, I found these in an old trunk, and I believe them to be genuine. . .”   
While he chattered on, Crowley studied the Angel's face and eyes, and wondered what kind of Creature he would take the form of, if he had an Animal Form. He thought perhaps a dove, or a mongoose. Those seemed like reasonable options.   
“Did Wilde ever mention all this, when you and him were friends?” Crowley interjected, inspecting the letters with a raised eyebrow.  
Aziraphale flushed.   
“Well, we weren't really friends, we only met a few times, and no, he never mentioned—is something bothering you, my dear?”   
He had caught the glossy look in Crowley's eyes.   
“No, actually, I was just curious about something. Been thinking about it all morning.”   
“Oh? What's that?”   
“Do you have some kind of Animal Form?”   
Aziraphale's eyebrows knit.   
“You know,” Crowley said, “Like, how I turn into a snake. Have you got that?”   
“Oh. . .well Crowley, you must remember from when you were an Angel.”   
Crowley reddened. He didn't enjoy conversations about his time in Heaven, especially because he didn't remember a good deal of it.   
“I mean you, specifically,” he clarified. Aziraphale looked thoughtful for a moment.   
“Why don't we go somewhere more private, and I'll show you,” he decided. “We can even have a picnic, like those ones we used to have in Tuscany? Make a day of it.”   
Crowley agreed to this, and allowed Aziraphale to purchase some fine wines and cheese (which he had to “skip across the pond for”) then they took the Bentley and drove until London disappeared and they found a park with just happened to be miraculously empty that afternoon.   
Crowley patiently watched as Aziraphale indulged in bread and cheese from Tuscany and wine from France (it was a bit light for Crowley's taste, he preferred red wines) until the morsels were gone and the talk of Oscar Wilde had faded into the air.   
“That was simply delicious,” Aziraphale said, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin.   
“Yes, well, can we get on with it then?” Crowley said impatiently.   
“Oh yes. Let me just, em—“   
Aziraphale stood and walked to the center of the field while Crowley watched eagerly.   
Aziraphale's body was engrossed in light.   
And his Form, his Form was—

A _lion_.   
A beautiful, cloud-white lion, with watery grey eyes and a halo of mane.   
Crowley was momentarily stunned—he hadn't expected—well, what had he expected? Something small and underwhelming. Instead, he was taken aback by the grace of Aziraphale's form, standing majestically in the sunlight.   
Then, within a few moments, Aziraphale was showered with light once more, and was back to his usual self—still beautiful, still stunning, just in a different way.   
“I don't like to use my Lion Form often,” he said, brushing himself off. “Gabriel's always on about “frivolous miracles” and such.”   
“I-I can't believe I'd never seen it before,” Crowley said. “Pretty, erm, cool. A lion and all.” He flushed, embarrassed at his lack of proper sentences to form.   
Azirphale smiled.   
“Thank you, my dear. And I think snakes are quite “cool” as well. All Creatures Great and Small.”   
Crowley chuckled.   
“C'mon, Angel. Let's get back to London, I want to read those letters properly.”   
So there they went, and spent the rest of the day in reverence of both the poet and one another. 

 


End file.
